Slightly Off-Key
by GoldenGrace
Summary: After walking out on the Bellas during their first meeting following a-ca-initiation, Beca ends up making an unusual agreement that just might put her in treble in more ways than one. (Beca/Jesse eventually)
1. A-Ca-Scuse Me?

**Slightly Off-Key**

Disclaimer: I do not own "Pitch Perfect."

Credit: Make-up of story content and development was in collaboration with the help of TwilightSeekerHP aka my sister.

**One: A-Ca-Scuse Me?**

_Beca…_

Was she serious? She had to be kidding. I looked around, thinking I was crazy. Maybe, I had heard Aubrey wrong, but the other girls' mixed expressions of surprise and confusion along with the abrupt thud of Mary Elise's folding chair on the concrete only confirmed that I had heard correctly.

This a-ca-bitch was crazy. A micromanaging, bottle-blonde Barbie—I could handle. I could put up with that if it meant a one-way ticket to L.A., but Aubrey "Stick-Up-Her-Ass" Posen reined terror with every thunderous step. Oh God, I could still hear Mary Elise's whimper bouncing off the walls, and picking up my jaw from shock, and I did what no one else apparently had the gumption to do.

"Was _that_ necessary?" I asked deadpanned as I turned to face Godzilla.

"Absolutely!" Aubrey replied without missing a beat.

"You have to be kidding me," I realized a second too late that I had said that out loud. Like watching a dragon uncoil, the true Aubrey emerged, and she was chomping at the bit to take a bite out of me. She fumed, and I tried to remember to choose my words carefully.

"It was Dixie Chicks serious, Beca!" Aubrey snipped. "Do you have anything to say to expound upon this situation because if you do…" I narrowed my eyes as she stepped closer to where I sat in the back row behind Ashley who cowered out of fear, "You might as well leave your chair at the door too because I saw your toner for Jesse last night!

She wasn't worth it; I reminded myself. All I had to do was take one for the team. Albeit, the team was comprised of only me, but if I counted my passion and my dreams, I was out-voted two-to-one. I owed it to myself to do whatever necessary to see through the agreement I had made with my dad to give college a try—to "get involved."

However, I wasn't much for participation, and giving up on whatever weak resolve I had to remain quiet and let the moment go, I spoke yet again.

"_Toner_?" I scoffed. "What the hell Aubrey!"

And why was she bringing Jesse into this? He was my—my _coworker_. Grant it, he wasn't all that bad to look at, but he was like that annoying neighbor kid sitcoms always had for comic relief. He was Steve Urkel to my Carl Winslow, Kimmy Gibbler to my whole freaking full house, always following me at work and leaving a perpetual string of cheesy jokes in his wake.

"Toner Beca…you have a toner for Jesse—a musical boner!" Aubrey spat.

Half the girls gasped in shocked, and Stacie was doubled over in a fit of giggles, trying in vain to cover her mouth and stop. She snorted anyways, and Lilly's lips began moving at a mile-a-minute, whispering something about sexual tension and chains.

"I do not!" I defended, trying to remember when I had stood. "What does that even mean?"

"Aubrey," Fat Amy coughed into her fisted hand, "_A-ca-Nazi_…thinks that you want to penetrate Jesse, your boyishly charming shadow and crush."

"Thanks, I got it Amy," I growled, and I actually felt bad when she rolled her eyes and mumbled in offense. "I don't have a crush on him."

"But you do want him!" Aubrey accused with her finger pointed, and I braced myself to receive whatever curse the witch was about to hex. "I knew it! You didn't deny it, and as co-leader of the Barden Bellas I make a move to have you expelled because of the threat you pose on the welfare of the group."

She straightened her blouse and clasped her hands, sneering in pleasure and not knowing that behind her Chloe was watching the entire scene with a mix of trepidation and outrage.

"I put it to a vote…" She continued.

"Aubrey, no!" Chloe said, stepping forward and speaking quietly. "You can't just kick her out. We need her."

"She's a detrimental hazard to the group Chlo," Aubrey whispered, shooting furtive fake grins around to everyone.

"What the hell?" Chloe laughed. "Because she has a crush?"

"I-I don't have crush," I added awkwardly with everyone turning to me momentarily before focusing back on our quarreling co-leaders.

"Beca, it's okay if you like him," Chloe assured me, and I knew she was being sincere.

"I don't…" I began, but I could tell that wasn't getting me anywhere and switched tactics. "So even if I did like him, I couldn't do anything about it. Right?"

"Beca," Chloe began, and I could already hear the patronization in her voice.

"So let me get this right…" I said, nodding to the whiteboard and the corkboard filled with neatly arranged, neatly taken group photos of ex-Bellas. "We can't be involved with Treblemakers. We only sing songs that are a thousand years old and are only hits on bingo night. We only wear matching pencil skirts and pull our hair up in ridiculous buns because God-forbid someone actually take us seriously if we don't portray the role of submissive, closed-minded females!"

"I hope she claws her eyes out," I caught Lilly mouth silently before Aubrey verbally attacked me.

"See Chloe this is what I'm talking about!" Aubrey huffed with her hands on her hips. "I told you we shouldn't have let her in!"

"She deserved a fair chance to prove herself!" Chloe replied.

"To prove myself?" I felt sick as I realized I was as wanted here as acne was desired.

I couldn't believe I had made it more than ten minutes into the first meeting. What had I been thinking? I wasn't a Bella. Hell, I wasn't even a team player. Misanthropy was practically my middle name, and with that, I knew what I had to do.

"You know what? I'll make it easy for you Aubrey. You don't need to vote. I'll leave."

"Beca, you don't have to," Chloe started.

"Yes I do."

"Yes she does," Aubrey remarked. "She's a quitter. I knew she wouldn't last long."

"Well, at least I'm not a psycho-bitch who's the reason the Bellas lost at the ICCA finals last year when she drowned the first three rows in puke."

She opened her mouth in shock, clearly surprised that I had known about that as everyone else began to murmur in confusion. I left out that I had spent two-hours searching the web in an unlike-me effort to learn more about a capella singing and competition. She didn't need to know that. That just made me seem like—well, her.

"It's called You-Tube," I said, backing towards the door. "A-ca-believe it."

SLIGHTLYOFFKEYSLIGHTLYOFFKEY SLIGHTLYOFFKEYSLIGHTLYOFFKEY SLIGHTLYOFFKEYSLIGHTLYOFFKEY SLIGHTLYOFFKEY

Geez, I was weak. I was like a waterbed after someone had taken an icepick to it, and I felt unbelievably stupid as I stood in the bathroom of the next building over from Bella practice with my fingers holding my eyes open. Just thinking about Aubrey and the entire argument would inevitably send me over the edge again and make me cry, and I didn't cry. However, something in what Aubrey had said struck a core, and I hated that.

I sighed. I wasn't built for this kind of crap, and I knew I had my dad to blame. He was the one who set me up, telling me he would even help me move to L.A. if I just gave college a chance—just join one group. Well, I had, and now, I was screwed because some girl didn't like me. I hated to call it, but I knew this was what it was—an epic fail.

I might as well purchase my cap and gown now because there was no way I wasn't getting out of four years of hard time. Four years of a fifteen-hour course load each semester. Four years of snotty Aubrey's, co-ed restrooms with nosy Chloe's, shared dorms with irritating Kimmy-Jin's, and four years of my dad pestering me to attend class, study, and give graduate school another thought.

I leaned over the sink with my head in my hands in frustration. How much was a bus ticket to the sunshine state? Probably, two checks worth of what I made at the station. Plus, housing, food, transportation, and whatever other random expenses I was sure to incur, I was looking at way too many little green dollar signs that I didn't have.

I had considered going with nothing but my laptop and equipment, but relying on some clandestine moment in which I found a trustworthy, free spirit willing to let me bunk for free on their couch without murdering me in my sleep was not my thing. I was rebellious since the moment I had run away from home and pitched a tent in our backyard when I was eight, but I wasn't suicidal. I was a hundred pounds of aggravation not rock solid steel.

"Hey dude you done yet?"

I jumped as the guy's voice came from one of the stalls. Shit. Was every restroom here co-ed? For a second, I entertained the idea that it was a rapist and that I should run, but considering, the guy had hadn't even shown himself, I felt a bit better.

Armed with one of the little bottles of hand sanitizer behind the sink, I cautiously walked by the red stalls, pushing them open with my hand. The first three were duds, and just as I was about to push open the fourth, the guy spoke up again.

"Dude, I'm in the last one…it's deluxe."

"It's for the handicapped," I rolled my eyes as I leaned against the closed stall door.

"It's for the awesome," He countered.

"No, it's for women idiot," I said waveringly as I fell sideways when the guy inside opened the door.

"No, it's for men dude…dudette," He amended as he caught me before I fell straight into the porcelain throne to my left.

I felt his cool hands catch me and right me on my feet, and I looked up surprised to find myself in the arms of a Treblemaker. I knew this guy. He was the douchebag leader's sidekick, Bumper's right hand man. I remembered his Elvis Presley pompadour-styled hair, his laid back vibe, and the wide grin he shot as Stacie took the stage. I doubt he had even noticed that she sounded like a screech owl in pain when she sang, but his name eluded me.

"I wouldn't drink that," He shuddered and winked, walking casually to the sink to wash his hands. "You don't want to know what I had for breakfast."

"Beans and eggs," I guessed, gasping as I turned away from the stall. "Couldn't you deposit that in the guys' restroom?"

"I always bank in the guys' bathroom," He said, holding his hand up to his chest in offense before pointing at the line of urinals on the wall. "Those aren't water fountains sweetheart."

"Oh shit," I mumbled as I realized I was the one in the wrong restroom.

How long had I been in here trying to keep myself from crying and muttering to myself? Five, ten minutes? I was officially a weirdo, and I knew all the Trebles were going to hear about this which included Jesse. I could already hear him teasing me about needing him as his personal navigator come Monday.

"A-ca-confused?" He laughed.

"Seriously, you too?"

"It's the second official language of Barden University," He shrugged before eyeing me skeptically. "Shouldn't you be at Bella practice?"

"As opposed to scaring the shit out of you?" I asked crossing my arms. "_Wait_, how do you know about Bella practice?"

"One, I asked you first, and two, you didn't scare me," He smirked triumphantly, walking out of the restroom.

I thought our impromptu tête-à-tête was over, but apparently, it wasn't as he held the door open for me. Reluctantly and hoping that no one was lingering in the hall that would recognize me, I walked out. Luckily, the hall was empty as I walked out, and I laughed at myself. I didn't know anyone anyways.

"So you're a computer sci major?" He said, and I jumped as I remembered he was with me. Or was I with him?

"No, why?"

"This is the computer science building," He clarified.

"Oh, are you?" I asked, trying to understand why we were still talking. Couldn't he leave me alone to wallow in my embarrassment?

"Yes, well no, well yes," He knitted his eyebrows perplexed.

"A-ca-confused," I smiled.

"Touché, but no, it just depends on who I'm talking to," He shrugged. "You don't know my parents do you?"

"Should I?"

"Nah, just don't tell them what you know…or I'll have to kill you," He said in mock-seriousness.

"I take it your parents don't approve of your major," I said.

"_Maybe_," He squeaked. "Let's just say they still might be under the impression that I'm working on preparing my applications for med school."

"I know what you mean," I sighed. "We should form a club."

"Comprised of young adults lying to their parents?" He asked.

"I was thinking more about an outreach for children of helicopter parents overcompensating for previous parental downfalls."

"Oh, you mean OCHPOPPD? Why didn't you tell me? They meet Saturdays at nine," He laughed.

"Damn, I'm late," I rolled my eyes.

"Seriously though, doesn't Bella practice start at the crack of dawn?"

"Something like that," I averted my eyes as we stepped outside, pausing as we leaned against the railing. "Actually," I admitted. "I kind of…sort of…walked out."

"You Bella-bailed!" He shrieked louder than I thought any guy could before busting out in laughter, theatrically doubling over. "Damn girl! You should have run further across campus before Admiral Aubrey knifes you with her stilettos."

I bit my lip as he jumped onto the railing opposite me. Should I tell him the truth? Should I have told him that I quit at all? It was bad enough that I had bailed, but why in the world was I making it worse for myself and announcing to my new bathroom buddy that I had quit. I could have at least bought myself another week or so and pretended to be in the group still before my dad found out.

Of course, he didn't know that I had gotten in anyways, so it was a moot point to try and salvage this a-ca-crap.

"I doubt that's going to be happening," I explained. "She kind of wanted me out…apparently before I got there."

"Oh, _gotcha_," He grimaced. "Tough break."

I shrugged. I didn't care about the group anyways I reminded myself.

"Well, Aubrey's a witch…a hott witch," He amended. "I mean the girl's smokin'…um, I mean she's okay." He ended at seeing my unimpressed face.

"Yeah, well, it was nice meeting you…"

"Donald," He smiled on cue and jumped off the rail, sticking his hand out.

"As in Trump?" I mused as I shook his hand.

"As in it's a long story, and you wouldn't be able to pronounce my real name if you tried," He grinned.

"Fair enough," I gave in. "I'm Beca."

"I know."

"You know?"

"Beca Mitchell as in Dr. Mitchell…comp. lit. right?"

"Yeah, but how do you know…"

"How do I know? How do I know?" He asked, fisting his hand at the sky. "Curse my damn superhuman intuition and perceptive deductibility! That and I may or may not be taking your dad's class to fulfill a fine arts credit that I missed for my core in my freshman year, and he may or may not have included a picture of you on his introduction slide show next to his CV…"

"Are you serious?"

He had to be joking. I felt like my head was about to explode. Apparently, dear Donald could tell I was about to snap too because he stepped back two feet. Little did he know, a safe distance was ten feet at least.

"Um, well, you know what? It was great meeting you Beca!" Donald called as he backed down the stairs. "I gotta go meet somebody? Yep, that's what I gotta do."

"Hey!" I called as he disappeared around the corner. "Hey!"

I kicked at the ground in annoyance. To my surprise, a rock was launched into the air and landed a few feet away, barely missing the heads of two girls walking by. It was Kimmy-Jin and one of her minions. The day just got better.

"That's the white girl," I stood mutely as Kimmy-Jin whispered to her friend. "I told you she was screwed up."


	2. You Again

**Slightly Off-Key**

Disclaimer: I do not own "Pitch Perfect."

Credit: Make-up of story content and development was in collaboration with the help of TwilightSeekerHP aka my sister.

**Two: You Again**

"Orange or grape?"

"What?" I asked in confusion, looking up to see Jesse cocking his head at me expectantly with a juice box in either hand.

He sighed when he realized I had not been listening. Besides, we were supposed to be stacking CDs—again. It was serious. Not really, but he should have been focused on work and not me.

"Beca, Beca, Beca," He shook his head. "I know this is sudden, and completely out of character for me. I mean we've only known each other four weeks, but…" He placed a hand on my shoulder, and I looked down at it suspiciously. He wisely removed his hand. "I feel that I can admit to you my terrible shame."

"If this is about being a Trekkie, I saw the backpack…" I started, and he laughed.

"No, not _that_!" He blanched. "That's completely legit and cool."

"Of course, one hundred percent," I nodded sarcastically.

"Hmmm I don't like that tone…ah, anyways, where were we?"

"You mean where were you?"

"_Anyways_, juice boxes!" He proclaimed, hanging his head and setting the tiny little cardboard vessels purposely on the stack of CDs I was trying to at least pretend I was reorganizing. "They're my crutch."

"You poor thing."

"I know…I know. It's the burden I bear."

"You're not alone big guy," I clipped his chin with my closed fist playfully. "They have help for the misguided nowadays."

"But my pride!" He defended.

"Can you say hello my name is…"

"How dare you mock my crisis? You should be planning my intervention," He followed me as I walked away from the table, placing CDs randomly intermixed with those already sorted. Oh well, I would fix them tomorrow. It was job assurance I rationalized.

"Your intervention? Don't you have loving, oblivious parents who can take the blame for this dark addiction?"

"Of course, but they're busy. They have six other kids to worry about—Greg, Marcia, Peter, Jan, Bobby, and Cindy. Geez Beca, don't you know anything?"

He rolled his eyes, and I knew that was some sort of attempt at a dig. I don't think he could pull off anything close. He was way too clean-cut and doe-eyed for anything like that. Without thinking, I looked up to his eyes-dark brown, nothing special, but they suited him. I ended up staring too long, and I knew he noticed because he looked like a dog that just got praised as he smiled too wide and followed me yet again as I turned away.

I thought he was going to keep pestering me, but I was surprised to find him walk away and out the door.

"I have class! See you tomorrow stacking buddy!" He shouted as he exited, and I looked back to catch the sight of him jogging across the parking lot towards campus, pulling his backpack strap over his other shoulder. A two-strapper? I shook my head. The kid had issues.

I turned back to my CDs, shoving what was left into the M's. M for musical CDs. It loosely fit, and I went to put away the main stack in the office box on the table. I wanted to hit myself upside the head when I saw the juice box sitting right on top of the stack with the straw already poked in place and ready to go. A sticky note in what I could only assume was chicken scratch was attached.

"For you," I read. "I hate orange juice. – Jesse."

I looked down at the juice box. It was the grape juice he had offered me, and I could only muse that he wasn't going to let me drink something he wouldn't willingly drink. Against my better judgment and justifying that the juice box was already opened and would go bad otherwise, I took a sip.

"Really?"

I choked as Luke came out of the box, eyeing me like I had three heads. I supposed it was unusual for a college student to be drinking on the job. The juice box only made me look worse. At least vodka wouldn't be so lame. Way to go Beca.

"Unfortunately," I mumbled to myself as I wiped at my mouth. Thankfully, Luke had already walked off to the bathroom.

Two more hours, two more hours, two more hours—I reminded myself. Two more hours, and I could leave this place. It would have been a great motivation. It almost was until I remembered I had dinner with my dad and the step-monster tonight. Two more hours. Shit.

SLIGHTLYOFFKEYSLIGHTLYOFFKEY SLIGHTLYOFFKEYSLIGHTLYOFFKEY SLIGHTLYOFFKEYSLIGHTLYOFFKEY SLIGHTLYOFFKEY

It was purple.

"It's mauve!" Sheila exclaimed, looking at me hopefully, and I wanted to vomit as she continued gushing over the purple cardigan in my hands. "You just have such a pretty olive skin tone Rebecca."

"It's Beca," I muttered, and I knew both Sheila and my dad heard as they shifted uncomfortably on the couch across from me.

I covered the comment with a smile, not desiring to listen to his spiel about how Sheila, an English grammarian and editor of the "The Atlanta Annual," believed that given names were proper names and thereby the correct names that people should be addressed by. Nicknames were just as much for the lazy as conventions were as far as she was concerned.

"Yeah, well, thanks again," I grimaced, hoping that showing any sort of revealed teeth would pass as a smile. I still couldn't believe I was expected to wear this. It had a white rosette made of lace sown onto it too, and I cringed when Dad spoke.

"There's one more item," He encouraged, and I brought the pink bag back onto my lap after dropping it in shock as the sweater had been revealed.

"It's a gift card to iTunes," Sheila said, and I wondered if she had a pathological need to narrate the obvious.

At least, I could hock the gift card to some nitwit for cash. The sweater offered no such value unless a cold sorority girl happened to cross paths with mine, but I stayed away from that side of campus like a plague. They should quarantine all those pastels and chipper voices.

"It's for twenty-five," Dad continued, smiling tensely. "It's not much, but that way, you'll still have time for…"

"For school? Thanks, point taken," I grumbled, and they exchanged another uncomfortable look. Yikes. I wouldn't have thought that anything could have been more awkward than our silent, three course meal that Sheila had prepared, but this was slowly become worse.

"Well, um," Sheila thankfully broke the silence. "I'll be in the kitchen. Dishes don't scrub themselves!" Her voice tinkled as she left, leaving just Dad to stare at me.

He cleared his throat, and I knew what that meant. He had something to say, and I suddenly understood Sheila leaving was not by accident. I was setup.

"I was speaking with Professor Rodham…" He began.

"Seriously Dad, the orchestra conductor?" I whined.

"Bec, they're always needing another hand…"

"I don't play classical."

"You used to love the flute Beca. It's only been what two, three years? I'm sure you could pick it back up…"

"Dad it's not like riding a bike," I said, resting my head on my hand and desperately wishing I could teleport home.

Except, I didn't really have one of those. Dad and Sheila's victorian was a museum of antiques and a library of dusty books. My dorm was shared with a she-devil, and the place that had actually been my home for most of my life was gone. Literally, it was gone. Hurricane Nestor had wiped it out in late May, but that didn't matter. It's not like my mom was there anymore anyways.

"Well, what about the violin? I know you still dabble with that surely?" He urged.

"Dad, I'm not joining the orchestra," I said through gritted teeth.

"Beca, you have to do something, and your hobby is music. I'm just trying to help…"

"It's not a hobby," I stated, but he continued as if he didn't hear me.

"…What about the band? You could give that a try. Of course, the outfit would swallow you…

"Dad just stop!" I pleaded. He sighed and clasped his hands. I could tell his patience with me was wearing thin.

"I just don't know what to tell you. I'm asking you to give college a try not sell your soul," He reasoned.

"Well," I said in exasperation, knowing I was going to regret it later but just wanting him to stop while he was way too freaking far ahead. "You don't have to worry. I already joined something."

"Really?" His ears perked up with interest.

"Yeah," I lied seamlessly. It was half-true.

"What did you join?" He asked, and I could see the wheels and cogs of his mind working, trying to understand what club or society had possibly peaked my interest that wasn't orchestra or band.

"The A Capella Society," I answered, trying to not let my voice sound shaky.

"Which group?"

What was with the interrogation?

"Barden Bellas," I replied.

"Oh, oh well that's wonderful!" He praised, and I pretended to not be irritated that he only smiled that sincerely when it was because of something he approved of.

"Yep, I'm a Bella," I picked at the pill on the couch's arm.

"That's really great honey."

"What's great?" Sheila smiled, bouncing merrily as she re-entered the living room with a Tupperware dish in her hand. She had to have been waiting by the door, planning her reentrance. Creeper.

"Beca joined the Barden Bellas."

"Rebecca, that's terrific," She exclaimed.

There was a beat or two of awkward silence.

"So when's your first performance?" Dad asked. Wonderful—there was nothing like fielding questions you had no answers to. I plastered a fake grin on my face, trying to remember what was on the dry erase board behind Aubrey's fat head.

"January," I said, summoning all the confidence I could muster.

"That far off? I would think there would be something sooner."

"No, competition starts in January," I said, fairly confident in what I could remember.

"Oh _competition_ starts then," Sheila said as if she had just dotted all the I's and crossed the T's. "Surely, the first performance is sooner than that. Don't the a capella groups perform in the Wilson Center every fall?" She turned to my dad.

"I think they did last year," He replied before I once again became the center of interest. "I hope you do perform this fall. Whenever the big day is, remember to save us seats."

"I'm sure it's not that big of a deal," I shrugged.

"Well, we would love to come anyways despite how big or small the affair is," Sheila chirped.

"Great, um sure…I'll keep you posted," I smiled, standing up and shoving the purple abomination and gift card back into the bag.

"Oh, don't forget this!" Sheila stood up, shoving the Tupperware dish towards me. "It's a little something. Now, I know you talked your dad out of a big cake and candles…" She elbowed Dad as if he had deprived her of some great honor of baking me a cake. "But I hope you enjoy this."

"Okay, thanks, I guess I'll be going now," I nodded, taking the dish and being subjected to a beyond weird hug with her. Basically, she hugged while I stood still. It was only worse when Dad gave me one too.

"Happy Birthday Beca," He said, kissing the top of my head. "I love you."

He pulled away, and I knew I was expected to reciprocate those three words. It was only natural. Hell, people told their dogs they loved them, and yet, all I managed was a strangled goodnight. Dad and Sheila smirked pleasantly as always though. Their faces were schooled as much as mine, and I knew that at least I wouldn't be the topic of the night as they went to bed. The missed declaration of love was overlooked now that I was a Bella.

It was funny how something so trivial and stupid could be my saving grace. What sucked was that I had thrown it all down the drain.

I spent the next twenty minutes driving back to campus wallowing in that decision, wondering how long I was going to get away with it and wondering what exactly was I going to do. I wasn't very proactive in matters that I was forced into with my hands tied. I was defiant like that, and annoyed with just about everything, I scooped the gift bag off the car floor when I reached the dorms.

I was ready for bed. Maybe, when I woke up, this would all just be a subpar dream, and I would be ten years older with my own promising record label or radio station in the works. I would have a few employees, and I would be making music for sport as much as for income. I could have the best of both worlds. Just daydreaming as I walked down the dark sidewalk by myself made me feel content—too content, and before I could think, I was lying flat on back in the cool grass.

"Sorry, I never usually get a girl horizontal that fast," I heard none other than Donald say, and I gave in as he offered me a hand up.

"Unbelievable, you're such a charmer," I laughed.

"For real, you okay?"

"Um, yeah," I brushed myself off, pulling a chunk of dirt from my hair. "It's no big deal. I just didn't see you coming."

"I'm secretly a ninja," He said, whispering as he leaned closer.

"Is that so?"

"I wish," He sighed with disappointment. "What about you? You were walking all incognito and light-footed."

"I don't think a scarf makes me incognito," I countered.

"Well, you seemed kind of caught up in your thoughts to me," He shrugged. "But what do I know."

"It's nothing," I assured him, walking by him and looking back down at my feet. "Night Donald." I slowed as I heard the scuff of his converses coming in my direction.

"Hey Beca, you like coffee," He asked jogging backward in front of me as I continued pressing forward.

"If I tell you yes, will you leave?"

He thought on it before replying, "Nope…come on let me buy you a cup of coffee?"

I went to side step him, and he stepped to the side as well.

"See this is where the injured damsel allows the gentleman to make up for his unforgivable misstep in knocking her over."

"It was a mutual collision," I argued.

"So is that a yes-Donald-I-would-be-happy-to-accompany-you…or a no-Donald-you-creep-me-out?" He said, making his voice raspy for the latter option.

This guy was too much. He was like the annoying older brother I had never had. I half-expected to get a noogie before we parted ways.

"Lead the way," I mumbled, and he held his arm out for me.

"Milady?" He said, and I didn't take his arm.

"Don't push it."

"Yes milady," He smirked, leading the way to the coffee hut cattycorner to the dorm that I had sadly just realized we both lived in.

Joy.


	3. An Unusual Agreement

**Slightly Off-Key**

Disclaimer: I do not own "Pitch Perfect."

Credit: Make-up of story content and development was in collaboration with the help of TwilightSeekerHP aka my sister.

**Three: An Unusual Agreement**

The coffee shop glowed bright in the dark, and I was happy to find that besides a guy hunched over his laptop and two baristas texting behind the counter no one else was there. Feeling more awkward than usual, I followed Donald up to the cashier where the two girls suddenly found nothing of interest in their phones as they giggled and swayed disgustingly.

"Oh, hey Donald!" The nearest one chirped, practically shoving the brunette one out of the picture. "Did you hit up that Alpha Tau rush last week? I saw you mention it on Facebook."

"Nah," He laughed. "Actually, I think I said something about I would rather be strung up a flag pole in the middle of the woods, covered in honey, next to a bear's den on the first day of spring before rushing…or something like that."

"Kay," She giggled, and I wondered if she had even heard what he said. The girl behind her snickered at her idiocy, "Oh um what can I get for you?" She asked, clearly forgetting that she worked here as she twirled her hair.

"Two white chocolate mochas," He said, and the girl mouthed the order as she keyed it in with her perfectly manicured nails.

"_Two_?" She repeated, and I shuffled behind him. She emitted a very annoyed and surprised "oh" before turning to her friend and sharing a snicker. Donald was too wrapped up in paying and trying to pick out just the right stirrer to pay attention.

"You shouldn't have paid," I grumbled as we walked idly around the room before Donald decided to choose the largest table nestled in front of the empty fireplace to sit at.

"You didn't stop me," He pointed.

"It was too funny, seeing Addison nearly hyperventilate," I laughed. "Besides, I only have about ten bucks to my name, and eight bucks of that is in free coupons to Swirly World."

"Ice cream, hell, yes!" He exclaimed. "That's mint!"

"Mint? I'm sure you would think my twenty-five dollar gift card to iTunes was jolly good too," I said, shaking the gift bag by my card.

"Big gift card," He stated with approval. "What'd you get it for?"

"My birthday," I sighed, glaring at the pink gift bag, and Donald took the liberty of grabbing the bag and pulling out its contents.

"Uh _nice_?" He said, commenting on the purple sweater before dropping it back in the bag like it was on fire. "Didn't really peg you as an um…"

"Freak of nature?" I supplied.

"You said that not me," He defended, shooting Addison a smile as she set the mugs before us.

"Don't feel bad. Sheila gave it to me."

"Sheila?"

"My stepmom"

"Ah the truth wills out," He said, leaning back and I rolled my eyes as he stretched his legs underneath the table, propping his feet up on the chair beside me. "How long you had her?"

"She isn't a dog!" I laughed. Though, I probably did like dogs more than her.

"So how long?"

"So how long what?"

"How long has she been your stepmom?"

"What's with the twenty questions?"

I wasn't about to start answering to Donald. He should be lucky—no graced with my divulgence of why I was half-crying in the restroom, and that had only been granted because otherwise he would think I was unstable. I didn't tell people things. I didn't let people get to know me, and I cursed myself for letting my guard down for half a second. Now, he thought he had a free pass to know all about Beca.

If he thought that was happening. He was wrong, and just like that, I felt my carefully constructed brick wall build up again. I wasn't naïve. I knew it was there. Hell, I built it in the first place.

"Yeah, whatever," I replied, not knowing what Donald had said.

"Awesome let's go!" He said, nearly jumping out of the booth.

"Wait what did I just agree to?"

"You just agreed to have sex with me…" He laughed as I choked on my sip of coffee.

"I…I am not having sex with you!" I practically screamed, and he burst into laughter as the baristas looked over and gave me a cold look while he leaned over, trying to shush me. I swatted at his hands.

"I was only kidding. I swear…_but I am alone and vulnerable_…" He joked. I rolled my eyes, wondering why I was here.

"Is that why you're walking down the sidewalk in the dark? Heading towards the corner?" I suggested.

"Please, I'm better than that. I have a little black book for emergencies," He said with a tone of the utmost-seriousness though his waggling eyebrows suggested anything but.

"Emergencies? You're a pig."

"You want the truth?" He grew somber after admitting a moment or too later when I nodded. "I just had to get out of the house."

"I thought you lived at the dorm," I commented confused.

"No, Sta…this girl lives there…I live at the Treble house."

"You guys have a house?"

"Of course! Where do you think awesomeness is created?"

"Sesame Street?"

"Oh you have so much to learn," He shook his head. "Sophomores and up live at the house. It's not mandatory or affiliated with the school or the a capella society…just kind of happened. It's some rental house that got picked up back in the nineties by an ex-leader. It's two streets over. The house with the ugly brown bricks and the…"

"You know I'm not coming over there?" I interrupted.

"Why not?" He pouted.

"We aren't friends, besides if it's so awesome, why'd you leave?"

He shrugged, "I got frustrated."

"I understand. Too much partying can be tiring."

"Nah, I got in an argument with Bumper," He admitted, scratching the back of his head.

"Trouble in paradise?"

"We're supposed to have a show in two weeks…" He explained.

"The fall show?"

"Yeah," He yawned. "Bumper's not even going to be in town—jackass—he put off the whole set on me!"

"The whole arrangement?"

Normally, I would think getting rid of Bumper would be a good thing, but I actually felt bad for Donald for being left on his own. He actually seemed half-depressed, and admittedly, I preferred his suggestive joking to this side of him. I wasn't good with dealing with people, and I especially wasn't good with dealing with people who were looking for an ear to complain to.

"Yep," He nodded. "Doesn't help that I suffer from partial tone deafness."

"Please, I saw you at the activities fair."

"Yeah, impromptu's easy, but planning? I'd rather…" He admitted, animatedly tying a noose and wrapping it around his neck with his tongue lolling out and his eyes bulging.

"I get the picture."

"You sure? I can do it again," He began to retie his imaginary rope, laughing as he did.

"Donald, I'm good," I sighed. "Besides, at least you're in something."

"Ah, deserter's remorse?" He asked.

"No, not exactly…I just kind of made an agreement with my dad about getting involved, and now that I'm out of the Bellas…"

"You're in broach of contract?"

"Bingo," I downed the rest of my coffee, wishing it had been spiked a little.

"Well, what about one of the other groups? The High Notes would be a synch to get into."

"Thanks for the suggestion but no. I think hanging out with a bunch of soft-core druggies would be in the opposite direction of what I need."

"Well, what about the BU Harmonics? Or maybe not," He must have answered his own question as he bit his lip, staring at my piercings and general look of annoyance just at the mention of the Madonna-loving freaks.

"I'll work something out _hopefully_," I shrugged, going to stand, and he followed suit. "Who knows maybe I'll take up chess."

"Good luck with that," He yawned as we hit the parking lot.

"You too…here, maybe this will help with inspiration," I replied, handing him my gift card for iTunes and I was surprised that I actually felt for Donald. I knew how much it sucked to be responsible for something when you didn't want to and didn't really know what you were doing.

"Thanks! You need me to walk you back to your dorm?" He called at my back as we parted ways.

"No, you're the only one out here attacking me."

SLIGHTLYOFFKEYSLIGHTLYOFFKEY SLIGHTLYOFFKEYSLIGHTLYOFFKEY SLIGHTLYOFFKEYSLIGHTLYOFFKEY 

Wednesdays sucked. In all fairness, most days sucked, but on Wednesday, I was busy with two morning classes, an afternoon class, a short shift at the station, and a chem lab following that until ten. By noon, I was ready to kill, and by five, I was ready to sleep.

The stacking CDs crap was really starting to get old too, and I had decided to set myself a new task—stacking CDs. I literally had an entire skyline happening with pens lining the streets. Luke and Felix, the assistant who ran the desk, were going to flip, and I was probably going to be fired before my shift ended when they realized what'd I'd done. However, I supposed I didn't mind.

"Bored are we?" Jesse smiled across at me where I sat on a stool by the table, building another story.

"It's a penthouse," I explained, dismissing what he said.

"You're missing something," He said, scooping up some of my CDs.

"Those are mine!" I whined, and he only laughed as he began to reconstruct my skyline as I watched with my arms crossed in annoyance.

"Just close your eyes," He said, trying to block my view.

"But it's my cityscape!" I protested.

"_Beca_…" He drew my name out languidly, and I huffed before turning around.

I would turn around, but I wasn't going to close my eyes. I wasn't going to do what he said. Besides, I had a nice view turned this direction if I just looked beyond the parking lot. There was a fountain and trees, and most of the buildings were quiet as everyone was in class or was done for the day. There were a few students, including the weirdo club where the members played merry-go round twenty-four-seven, but other than that, it was void of people.

To my slight disgust, I actually liked Barden University for a moment. I almost felt okay with staying here for a while. Sighing, I looked away from the window, sneaking a peek over my shoulder to see Jesse hunched over his feet. His butt was up in the air, and I could tell from the side of his face that he was focused with his brow furrowed in concentration. It wasn't a bad view either.

"Hey, don't look!" He exclaimed when he saw me peek.

I laughed. I hadn't even bothered to look at the CD cityscape. I had been too busy focusing on him. He was growing on me with every corny joke and proffered juice box, and every aggravated eye roll or sarcastic comment only seemed to fuel him more. A part of me wondered how long he was going to do this. How long was I going to be his pet project before he finally gave up?

Because I wasn't going to give in.

"Okay, you can turn around," Jesse said suddenly, and I nearly jumped as I felt his hand on my shoulder.

Preparing to flip once I saw my masterpiece destroyed, I was stopped up short as I took in his modifications. They were good—really good. He'd created a skywalk by taking out the paper from a CD case and leaving it transparent. His shoe laces were holding the CD elevator while his phone was set in the middle as the searchlight.

"It's supposed to be Batman's call you know but…" He shrugged, and I nodded my understanding as I assessed his work.

He actually looked nervous as I walked the length of the table, finding a few more subtle touches, and he crossed his arms too, watching me now watching him.

"I have to admit," I smiled. "You definitely improved the place."

"Eh, no biggie," He said, and I could hear the sigh of relief in his tone. "Lego champion legend over here."

Just like that his cockiness had returned, and I looked down eagerly in order to find a flaw. All I found however was a bridge from one table to the next that was supported in the middle by a chair. On one table was the city, and on the other one there was nothing.

"Bridge to nowhere?" I raised my eyebrows, shaking my head, "If this is the kind of shoddy work…"

Before I could blink, Jesse was scrambling, diving towards the shelf of records that was nearest him and grabbing one without thinking. Pleased with himself, he set the record up right, propping it up with CDs.

"The Beach Boys?" I questioned, trying not to laugh at the record cover featuring two surfing guys riding a wave.

"Hang ten bra," Jesse said, signaling with his hand. "It's the beach. Get it?"

"You got lucky," I remarked.

"Hey! I put a lot of thought into this!" He laughed.

"You're insane…"

"…no, you're fired."

Jesse and I both jumped as we turned around to find Luke and Felix both standing in the door way. Shit. Luke walked forward, practically spitting nails as he waved his hand at what now appeared a completely childish and stupid move on my part. What had I been thinking? Grant it, the station wasn't that great, but at least the music was decent to listen to and it got me away from Kimmy-Jin. It may have been a two-star rated escape, but at least it was an escape.

I messed everything up.

"Dude, it was me…only me," Jesse spoke up first since I was still in a state of stupor and self-disappointment.

"Is that true?" Luke asked, and I blinked back into reality when I realized he was addressing me.

I opened my mouth, and I closed it once again. It would be so easy to just say it was Jesse and go along with his self-sacrificing stunt. "Yes" was a simple word, and it took less time and effort to stay than to admit the truth. I wasn't a liar though, and I looked away from Jesse's urging face to just play along.

"It was the both of us," I answered finally, and I watched as Luke's face passed through about ten emotions before he finally adjusted his knit hat and put his hands on his hips before throwing an accusing finger at Jesse.

"All right, but both of you knock it off," He said, and I felt bad that the brunt of it was directly aimed at Jesse. I was the one that had done it, and he was taking the fall. "This isn't the fucking fun zone. Got it?"

"Crystal clear man," Jesse replied. For the first time since I had met him, he actually looked serious and angry—very angry.

Luke stomped away towards the back then, throwing his last words over his shoulder while Felix tucked himself away at his desk, "Good! Don't be dragging Becky into your G-rated shit from now on! Both of you can leave for the day!"

"It's Beca," Jesse whispered so softly I thought I might have imagined it. The door slammed behind Luke then with the windows shaking.

"I'm sorry," I said in a rush.

"It's not your fault he's a melodramatic douche…I got to get out of here. I'm turning into him…" Jesse growled in irritation as he grabbed up his bag, throwing his juice boxes in.

He kept mumbling under his breath angrily as he re-laced his shoelaces as fast as he could. I just watched, still standing in the same place I had been in when we had gotten caught. I didn't know what to do with a pissed Jesse. He was always so chipper and sending off his former-Mickey-Mouse-Club-member vibe that this side of him had floored me.

"You okay?" I asked hesitantly, gritting my teeth.

"Yeah, I'm good," He gave a half-smile, and even I wouldn't have counted his attempt as a smile. "I'll see you tomorrow Beca."

"Kay," I nodded as he left.

I picked up my bags and was just about to leave too when I noticed the searchlight, Jesse's phone, was still sitting amongst the CDs. Tentatively, I scooped it up, turning off the app as I jogged across the parking lot to campus in hopes of catching up with him, but Jesse was long gone. Knowing I would see him tomorrow, I shoved his phone into my bag.

He couldn't have gone far and would most likely doubly back as soon as he realized it was gone. Not knowing what else to do and having extra time before class since we had gotten kicked out early from work, I settled myself on one of the brick walls jutting out by the stairs. I threw my leg over the other side to let it dangle and pulled out my laptop, immersing myself into my latest mash-up as soon as my headphones covered my ears.

So when the hand brushed over my shoulder, I let out a strangled scream as I jumped, biting my tongue in the process.

"Damn it Donald!" I exclaimed, feeling the pain spread throughout my mouth as I rubbed my jaw and pulled off my head phones.

"Sorry!" He said, holding his hands up in surrender before peeking over the top of my computer as he sat on the opposite side of it. "Whatcha doing?"

I tilted the screen more toward me, "Minding my own business."

"No you're mixing," He said straightforward.

"I'm starting to think you're following me," I admitted, narrowing my eyes in suspicion.

"Or are you following me?"

"I was here first," I reminded him.

"True," He agreed, and I could tell he was searching for anything he had against me. "But you're the one who started this…"

"What do you want Donald?" I interrupted, not wanting to relive the fact that I had spent more time in the guys' restroom that day than I had in the any girls' restroom since school had started in September.

"You any good?" He asked, turning the computer around to face him.

I went to turn it back, but he only set it on his lap purposely. It worked. It was out of my reach, and I sure wasn't going to make any extra effort to wrangle my laptop off of his lap. He held his hand out expectantly, looking between the headphones around my neck and his hand. Reluctantly, I handed them over, and he put them on. I brought my knees up to my chest defensively as he hit play.

He listened to it for a while with me waiting impatiently.

"Martin Solveig meets…U2…" He nearly screamed as he threw me a half smirk before pausing it and handing back the headphones and laptop.

"Miike Snow comes in later," I admitted, packing up my gear.

"Nice," He nodded.

"Thanks," I mumbled. Comments always made feel awkward like I had two heads or something on my face.

"You do this often?" He asked while I zipped up my bag.

"Yeah, I mean it's my…_hobby_," I shrugged, nearly barfing as I used the same word my dad had used. "It's kind of what I want to do," I admitted.

I waited for the hysterical laughter to come forth or the doubtful raise of the eyebrow. I waited for the usual reception, but Donald didn't even blink an eye.

"Cool," He said, and I didn't really know what to say at his enthused reply.

"_Cool_," I repeated. "It was great seeing you Donald, but I really have to get going. I have cl…."

"You're really good at the whole music thing aren't you?" He asked, and I wasn't entirely sure it was a question.

"It's what I do," I said.

"And you have more?"

"Well, yeah…"

I had been doing this for years. Of course, I had more. I had flash drives crammed with files, and notebooks full of CDs. My iPod was full of songs that inevitably would end up in one of my mash-ups, and over the last year, new folders had begun cropping up—ones with my own lyrics and music—even my own voice.

"What would you say about allowing someone to borrow one?"

"Who?"

"Someone that could really use it and needs an awesome mix arranged in a few days times…"

"So you?" I clarified.

"I told you I wasn't any good at this!" Donald defended. "Come on please Beca…I used up the card you gave me, but all I ended up with was half the guys mad at me for catering to rap and the other half angry because there weren't any solos…and…

"I get it. I get it," I said, putting up a hand to stop him, and against my better judgment, I spoke again. "So what…you want to use one of my mixes?"

"Mmmmaybe," He said. "Or maybe…and I'm just throwing this out there…maybe, you could kind of be like my silent partner…" He backed up a bit. He had learned.

"You thought about this didn't you? How long have you been watching me?" I accused.

"Not long _today_…I kind of saw you out here a few days ago doing your whole mixing thing."

"That's so stalker-ish…and why should I? And don't say for the satisfaction of helping someone," I said.

"Come on Beca please! Bumper's already talking about all his stupid plans for the year…he's pushing most of the season off on me…"

"I'll see you around Donald," I replied, turning away.

"I'll pay!" He called at my back. "I'll do anything! I'll…"

I heard him run to catch up, stopping me in the process as he went in front of me.

"I'll put your name on the official roster for the A Capella Society," He said, and I looked up with interest.

"What?"

"Official rosters have to be turned in before the fall show so that all the names are printed in the handouts…"

"And how are you going to do that?" I asked, crossing my arms. He popped his collar, looking smug.

"I am co-leader of the Treblemakers, and we don't have the name by chance."

"Mmm hmm"

"Basically, I'll just schmooze over the supervisor, add your name to the Bella's list, and case closed," He wiped his hands.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Had he really just said what I think he said? "Bellas?"

"You can't be a Treblemaker," He laughed. "You're a girl. So, do we have a deal?"

He stuck out his hand expectantly, and I kept my arms crossed.

It was tempting. A few mixes in exchange for my name on the society's roster. It would solve my problem with Dad, and knowing somehow or someway I was going to regret this later, I shook his hand.


End file.
